


It's the End of the World As We Know It

by aislingdoheanta



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Mentions of a character death, Zombie Apocalypse, but it's not in the fic itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie Apocalypse AU:  The Amis have formed a type of task force in order to help other survive this. They are working on not only surviving, but living as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the End of the World As We Know It

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response for my trope bingo square: Apocalypse AU.

_Hello again dear listeners. I hope this evening finds you well. Or as well as can be expected given these circumstances._

_Now, for some updates. Our raiders have discovered a few more shelters, meaning that there are more survivors out there. That should instill hope in all of us that there are still people out there. We are all still fighting._

_They have also said to have seen a decrease in the amount of the Infected. Now, while that can definitely be considered good news, we are not positive whether it means they are leaving, healing, or decreasing in population. However, we shall inform you of anything we learn in the upcoming days._

_As always, if there is anything you wish us to broadcast or need us to know, you know how to reach us. Or just look for one of our scouts or raiders. By now, you’ve seen what they look like and the sigil they wear upon their arms when they go out._

_Until next time. Stay safe out there. Your Guide signing off._

* * *

 

Combeferre sat at the table and waited for the remainder of their group to arrive for the meeting. Enjolras, as usual, sat beside him and instantly opened up his notebook to jot down some idea or another. They don’t acknowledge one another, but then again, they don’t need to. What would they say even? They can’t talk about the weather because they rarely go outside. They don’t have any lives outside of this group because there is no life out there. At least, not the life that they used to know.

And they really didn’t want to talk any more about the Situation than they had to. After all, it wasn’t something they had prepared for.

It wasn’t something anyone prepared for.

Bahorel said that has always been the problem. But, unlike most people, Bahorel has always been prepared for a fight. He tended to go into every altercation with an “unto-the-death” type attitude. The rest of them rarely got into physical fights unless it was a protest that had gotten out of hand. And even then it was more a flurry of arms, fists, and feet as they scrambled out of there. Combeferre and Enjolras normally being the two herded out the quickest, as they were the leaders and had the least amount of experience with fighting.

But that all changed the day of the Outbreak.

Now they were fairly skilled at fighting and weapons use. Though not enough to warrant going out in the field.

“What’s crackin’ Captain?” Courfeyac called out at Grantaire walked to the front of the little room with his notebook clutched tightly in his hands.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, but flashed a fond smile. “Are you really going to greet me that way every single meeting?”

“Yeah,” Courfeyac said as though it was obvious.

Grantaire just shook his head and glanced over to Combeferre and Enjolras. Combeferre felt Enjolras stiffen as he nodded back to Grantaire, who, in the mess of everything, had somehow happened upon the leader hat—much to his dismay. It was why Grantaire always looked at Enjolras and Combeferre being starting their little meetings. It was a way he could pretend that they were not waiting on his beck and call.

That had taken quite a lot of getting used to, more for Enjolras and Grantaire than anyone else. After all, Enjolras had been born to lead. His fire and passion was magnetic in a way that captivated anyone who happened passed. He wasn’t horrible at taking order. He just normally never needed to. And this whole mess had thrown them all for a loop and most of them, for a while, had felt very helpless.

But not Grantaire. The man, who refused to really believe in anything but the eventual outcome of total destruction or dictatorship of a selfish, idealistic society, had found his calling. Bahorel and Grantaire took charge in getting their group to safety, though Eponine was right at the top with them as well. The three of them worked to create a safe base for them and then continued to go out and try to help other people, bringing any of the rest of them who wanted to go. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Joly were never allowed. They were the three with the most medical experience and knowledge. Grantaire said they were too valuable to lose.

And then things started sliding into place. Grantaire their unelected-but-unanimously-acknowledged leader trying to keep them all safe, as well as help those who were still struggling out there. He assigned everyone a specific job to do and areas to work on. After the first few months, they had eventually become known over the country as the Amis.

Under Grantaire’s leadership, they had only lost one of their own: Musichetta, though that was due more to her bravery and martyr-mentality to give her boys the chance to get back than anything Grantaire did or didn’t do. If anything, that fueled their fire more.

“All right,” Grantaire said, his voice gruff. “Combeferre, any word over the broadcast?”

Combeferre sighed and shook his head. “It’s been pretty quiet since the last update.”

“No news is good news,” Bahorel said loudly from his spot next to Feuilly.

Combeferre nodded. “It’s looking that way. We’ve broadcast and will continue to broadcast any new information we receive to better prepare those out there. And I’ve made sure to keep an open line of communication for emergencies. As well as have alerts on all our electronics in case someone tries to contact.”

Grantaire nodded solemnly. It was still strange to see Grantaire in such a role. “My reports have been that the Infected have been creating packs, I guess is the word. And they’ve been moving more inland. Enjolras,” Grantaire said addressing the blonde. “Any leads?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Still nothing. Sorry.”

Grantaire sighed but smiled at him. “Nothing to apologize for.”

“There’s so much information,” Enjolras argued. “Yet nothing fits. None of the lore, none of the recent studies. Nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair.

Combeferre frowned and pressed a hand to Enjolras’ knee. His best friend was so used to having all the answers, or at least ways to gather all the information, and this was killing him. He was beginning to feel useless within their group for finding nothing. He was stonily silent whenever Combeferre and Courfeyac helped him as they floated between people to help with whatever they needed.

Enjolras tensed under Combeferre’s hand before relaxing, though never taking his eyes of Grantaire. Grantaire however smiled softly at him and shook his head. “I know that if there’s anything to find, you’ll be the first to.”

Enjolras, the man who was sometimes joking referred to as a marble statue, blushed. He ducked his head quickly with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

Combeferre had seen that blush, though he wasn’t sure how many others had seen it.

He thought perhaps it wasn’t as simple as not having the information to give Grantaire. He wondered if it might be similar to the situation they used to have with Grantaire. He always tried to impress Enjolras, but since he didn’t believe in Enjolras’ revolutionary ideas, he challenged him on everything, just to gather some of attention. Maybe Enjolras wished he had something to talk with Grantaire about to get some of his attention. Combeferre would have to talk to him later.

Grantaire switched back to the group. “Feuilly, Jehan. How’s the planning?”

Jehan smiled at him. “Good. We changed routes, planning on going along the coast to try and find new shelter locations and any survivors.”

“You planning on splitting up?” Grantaire asked.

“Once we get out to the coast area, we’ll re-evaluate. But probably not,” Feuilly told him. “Not without knowing the movements or plans of the Infected. It’s not exactly safe to just run in without thought.”

“Yeah,” Bahorel agreed with his other raiders. “I may take a small sweep of the areas directly around us and see what I can find out while they’re gone.”

Grantaire frowned, but nodded. He hated when his second in command went on solo raids or expeditions. Because, while he was perfectly capable of handling himself, he was also very much not aware of his own mortality and it made Grantaire extra worried to know that he out there on his own.

“I’ll go with him,” Eponine said from her seat on top of the table. “It’s time to start restocking on weapons and since we know there were quite a few groups around here, there’s bound to be something.”

Grantaire smiled at her. “Fine. Any luck on new theories?”

Eponine smiled, dark and lethal. “Fire might actually be our best weapon. Though I haven’t tried it out yet. Maybe after the meeting a couple of us can go out to see if we can find any infected and give it a shot.”

Grantaire turned back to Enjolras. “Anything in your readings to suggest fire?”

Enjolras shook his head as he flipped through his notebook. “No, no. The most common way I’ve read is beheading. One source said a stab in the heart, but I wouldn’t recommend it. But most sources say that they cannot be killed, because they are already dead.”

“But are they?” Joly piped up. “I mean they certainly look like they could be, but if so, how would that work? Did the virus kill them and then re-animate them? Is it in the air as we fear? Or is it something else entirely?”

“That’s the problem I’m having,” Enjolras said angrily. “We don’t really know what we’re up against, so we can’t know how to fight it! I mean, we all assume zombies because that’s the most obvious solution, but we’ve never really seen zombies outside of crappy horror films. And those are really not enough to go off of.”

“I think we need to find one to test,” Combeferre said quietly.

It was so quiet a pin could have been heard hitting the carpet as everyone processed Combeferre’s statement.

“You cannot be serious!” Enjolras nearly shouted jumping up from his seat. “Those are people!”

“Are they?” Combeferre countered. “Joly, in your research have they shown any human inkling? Any sign as to recognizing people they used to know or anything that could be argued as human?”

Joly looked all around the room, not liking the attention on him. “I-I’m not sure.” He sighed. “I mean, they are definitely more human than animal, at least outwardly. But I can’t be sure that they are still definitely human.”

“Are you really suggesting we go capture one to experiment on?” Enjolras said angrily.

Grantaire sighed and placed a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder, since the man had moved closer to Grantaire during his rage. “It might be the only way to really know what we’re up against,” Grantaire said quietly. “You said yourself that you have no idea what they are, which means we can’t know how to defeat them. Or cure them,” Grantaire added.

“I’d like nothing more than to find a cure, if there is one, to get everything back to the way it was before that day. But we’re still not sure how the virus—if it is a virus—spreads in the first place. Being able to study one might give us a fighting chance, Enjolras,” Grantaire finished.

Enjolras deflated in front of them but couldn’t drag his eyes away from Grantaire. Their leader squeezed his shoulder before dropping his hand, though Enjolras didn’t return to his seat next to Combeferre. Whether it was because he was still upset at Combeferre’s suggestion or because he was too busy thinking of an argument against Grantaire, Combeferre couldn’t be sure.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Marius, Cosette. How are things on the shelter front?”

“We’re good for now. Bahorel and I just made a run to the city a yesterday to pick up what we needed. And Combeferre’s been advising his listeners to do the same,” Cosette told them.

“Other shelters are springing up like this one,” Marius said gesturing to the small apartment building they had taken over and refurnished to keep the infected out. And just about anything you could imagine. It had been a very busy few days for them.

Grantaire nodded. “Keep me updated and make sure to keep in contact with the other shelters. But that’s all I have. I wish there was more for you guys, to give you hope or some shit. But I have nothing.” He sighed. “Just keep working and hopefully we’ll survive whatever this is.”

Grantaire locked eyes with Bahorel. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah.” He said with a grin. He even held out a hand to Eponine, “My lady.”

She laughed as he took it. “You only say that because I have a gun.”

“Or because I want to win your favor. I suppose you’ll never know,” Bahorel added with his booming laugh.

“Who’s coming boss?” Eponine asked Grantaire.

“You, me, Bahorel, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac if he’s in,” Grantaire called out. “But no bullshit, Courf.”

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Courfeyac said with a hand to his forehead. “You wound me.”

“I want to go as well.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Enjolras who steeled himself against their gazes.

“Enjolras, you can’t entirely handle yourself out there,” Combeferre said softly, trying to keep his voice from carrying.

“I’ve been having training with all of you when I’m not researching. And I want to be present for the demonstration,” he argued to Grantaire.

“That’s fine with me. So long as you’re sure you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Grantaire warned. “It’s a lot different out there than it is in here.”

“I’m sure.”

Grantaire smiled at him, the smile he used to smile when Enjolras started to talk about this protest or that demonstration or fighting the system. It was exasperated and undeniably fond. “Gather your shit. We’re leaving in ten.”

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s arm on his way past. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Grantaire nodded. “No problem. But you better stick close to me or Bahorel just in case. Can’t have anything happen to the pretty face of yours.”

Enjolras smiled a genuine smile before letting go of Grantaire’s arm and watched him walk away. Combeferre just turned on his heel and pretended not to have noticed that exchange. After all, he had things to work on. And a broadcast to plan.

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled for a really long time with this ending. I have another one, another broadcast that I had always intended on ending with. But I decided that this was a more complete ending. I hope that you all agree.


End file.
